


Wish We Could Turn Back Time

by DeansBonnieSammysClyde



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5-year-old Sammy, 9-year-old Dean, Dean is A Good Mom to his Brother, Fluff, Gen, Preseries, Weechesters, maternal dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27050338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansBonnieSammysClyde/pseuds/DeansBonnieSammysClyde
Summary: Dean remembers what to do.
Relationships: Brothers - Relationship, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 66





	Wish We Could Turn Back Time

“Oh, no, Sammy. You didn’t let Dad cut your hair, so we’re combing out that rat nest before school.”

Sam pouts, but turns around obediently to let Dean paw at his head. 

“Can’t have ya lookin’ like a ragamuffin,” Dean intones seriously. 

Sam wrenches his head around, in time to catch the tip of Dean’s tongue poking through his lips and the scrunch of his brows, furrowed in concentration. 

“A _what?”_

____

____

Dean rolls his eyes, dropping the hand that’s clutching the comb. 

_“Rag _amuffin, Sammy. It means a slob.”__

____

____

“You’re makin’ that up.”

“Am not. Mom used to call me that when I didn’t want to take a bath.” That last part is said quietly, without Dean’s usual big-brother superiority, and Sam feels his heart squeeze. 

Dean, meanwhile, is back to evaluating Sam’s head critically. “This isn’t going to work,” he mutters. Then, his expression smoothes out, and he gives a little nod, the way he does when Dad gives an order. Sammy can see the same determination in his brother’s eyes. 

Without another moment’s hesitation Dean licks a broad swipe up his palm, and, before Sam can predict its trajectory, brings his spit soaked hand down to flatten the hair on Sammy’s head. 

_“Dean!” _Sam all but shrieks, already in motion, but Dean just huffs as he grasps Sam’s shoulders, effectively aborting the escape attempt.__

____

____

“Oh, please Sammy.” He’s back to wrangling the comb through Sam’s hair. “Mom used to do this to me all the time, too.”

“It’s gross,” Sam mumbles sulkily.

Dean chuckles. “Well, yeah. But it works.” To prove his point, he drags the comb down slowly. Sam’s hair parts easily. “She used to say ‘mom spit’ was magic… There. Done, sourpuss.”

Sam sighs dramatically, and shakes his head back and forth to muss his bangs back into place over his forehead. Dean rolls his eyes.

“If you needed to get my hair wet –” Sam points to the kitchen sink, letting the gesture make a point of his own.

Dean just stares at him, before he smirks. He shakes his head and stoops to grab his backpack, hoisting it onto his shoulder. Sam’s own backpack follows. “Shut up, smart-ass.”

Sammy’s grin matches his big brother’s as he’s shuffled out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I actually managed to type out one of my countless fluffy headcanons. Thank you, Sara, for tirelessly being my soundboard and cheerleader. Stan Weechesters, y'all.
> 
> Title from Stressed Out, by Twenty One Pilots.


End file.
